Epilogophilia: In the Eye of the Beholder
by owlcroft
Summary: So, what was real? Do you believe in magic?


A/N: Another epilogue first published in a STAR for Brian 'zine.

**Epilogophilia: Eye of the Beholder**

_After reading a book on Irish legends, McCormick spots a group of leprechauns burying a cache of gold. He convinces the judge to help him capture the group of little people, while Hardcastle's major concern at the moment is readying the estate for a contest sponsored by the magazine, __Ladies' Garden Monthly__. The leprechauns claim to be circus performers fleeing from Communist agents and a duplicitous circus manager. The denouement of the episode is a riotous scene where the little people help Hardcastle and McCormick defeat the Communist agents and the circus manager's crew of bad guys. As a parting gesture, the leprechauns restore the Coyote and the estate to their original pristine conditions._

**Epilogue** by Owlcroft

Judge Hardcastle stepped out onto the front porch, letting the screen door slam behind him. The younger man didn't even glance up, but kept polishing.

"Doesn't she look great?" asked McCormick. "No dings, no scrapes, not one single bullet hole." He straightened up, folding the chamois into quarters.

"Yeah," replied the judge, descending the steps slowly. "But you know--"

"And she's getting 22 miles to the gallon," Mark beamed. "That's highway, but still . . ."

Hardcastle waved a hand at him. "Okay, so Benny got some little doohickey tuned just right for a change. You _know _there's no such thing as leprechauns. We're not having this discussion all over again."

McCormick shook his head. "Judge, you can't explain this any other way. It's magic."

"Look, you believe what you wanna believe, and I'll believe in reality, okay?" The judge pushed his Yankee cap back and lowered his chin. "And speaking of magic and leprechauns and stuff, I just got a phone call from Mrs. Vassah."

Mark said, "Oh, yeah?" casually, unfolded the chamois and circled the Coyote to begin industriously polishing the driver's side fender. "What did she want?"

"Well, it seems a coupla elves paid her a visit yesterday." The judge looked at McCormick from under his brows. "You know anything about that?"

"Me?" McCormick stepped back to inspect his handiwork, then returned to polishing as though he'd missed a spot a foot wide. "Why would _I _know anything about it?"

"How about because she said it was you and Frank?" Hardcastle folded his arms across his chest. "That bring a memory back to ya?"

Mark threw the cloth onto the hood in disgust and said "Dammit!" He put his hands on his hips and glared at the judge. "We made her promise not to tell you that! I swear, Judge, you just can't trust anybody these days." He picked up the cloth again and sighed. "Honestly, nobody has any integrity any more."

The judge cleared his throat and swiped the hint of a smile away. "So you two decided you'd go spin her a tale about a police sting and civic responsibility and get the committee to give me another chance at the contest, huh?"

McCormick grinned at him. "You shoulda heard Frank. He does serious so well, telling her about how the duty of a citizen to assist the police is an honor and a privilege and she should be proud of helping to bring criminals to justice."

"Yeah, I've heard that speech. I'm a little surprised, though, that it worked with Mrs. Vassah and the magazine." Hardcastle scratched his head thoughtfully. "Well, that means her committee's gonna be back over here day after tomorrow, so we gotta get the place all fixed up for 'em again."

Mark cocked his head at the older man with a wry smile. "Oh, yeah? Look around, Judge. The place has never looked so good. What is there to fix up?"

"Well, there are some leaves in the driveway and the refreshments to get ready." Hardcastle sniffed deprecatingly. "It's not like the place is _perfect_, ya know."

"Okay, fine." McCormick heaved a mocking sigh. "I'll rake up all the leaves that have fallen in the last two days and call the caterer again. After all that work, I'll probably need a nap. Admit it, Hardcase, the leprechauns left the place looking better than _we_ ever had it."

The judge eyed the lawn and the fountain area critically. "Maybe." He caught sight of McCormick's expression of comic disbelief and added, "Yeah, okay, it looks great. But there's no such thing as _magic_." He turned to go back up the steps to the house, then threw over his shoulder, "But you could have 'em take a look at the 'Vette next time they're around."


End file.
